Theme: Death

On The Page

To my surprise I found them, all three,
in the garden of those died, hands swinging linked,
and couldn't make my mind up, should I be in agony
and howl out ? Stand there stunned ? Disdain the bare
decease of sentience ? Or was I now extinct
myself ? Within the sheet of paper's privacy :
The cloister opened and re-entered by the stairs
of rhyme; the doorway unlocked with a pen -
and in the last resort, its perfect hiding place
behind the gates of fire; the secrecy of words
at various moments salamanders and chameleons;
in such a sanctuary the bullying voice of Death
is no more disconcerting than the smoking birds
of nightfall : the suggestion that the day may not be given
for your ordinary pleasure, or allowed the breadth
of an important project; and that those whose dying
would most affect them, rarely warn the living
of their hasty parting, and they cannot answer the inquiries
afterwards of any emptiness they leave behind -
All, softly, without anguish or foreboding -
all compose themselves within the guiding freedom of the lines
at times surprising, but in every figment, blithe or shameless,
innocent inside that sheltered place. And not excluding
even Death, there need be nothing nameless.


More By  :  Nicholas Messenger

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